Shen Wei has studied painting, as well as dancing, which may help account
for the distinctive look of his productions, which he both designs and
choreographs. He also invests the choreography itself with painterly qualities.
In both of his pieces at the Joyce, the stage could be likened to a painter’s
canvas and movement phrases resembled lines or brushstrokes.

Thus his version of Stravinsky’s "Rite of Spring"
seemed an animated abstract painting. There was no story, no evocation
of prehistoric wildness. Nor, despite Stravinsky’s vibrant music,
were there sudden outbursts of choreographic color. Instead, twelve dancers,
moving to a four-hand piano version of the score, became a choreographic
painter’s lines in motion in a production dominated by the grayish
hues of both Shen’s costumes and David Ferri’s lighting. Music
that has often prompted ballets of visceral appeal here inspired a surprisingly
cerebral work in which ever-shifting choreographic lines matched the musical
changes.

In one of the work’s first visually striking images,
the dancers rise on their toes, as if in expectation. Then come passages
of scurrying and darting steps. What people do appears always governed
by musical intensity, rather than dramatic motivation. Yet there are enough
kinetic surprises to make one realize that Shen is not merely imitating
the score slavishly: for instance, during one tumultuous passage, eleven
dancers simply stand immobile while a twelfth inches across the space
upstage. This "Rite" theatrically exists in a fascinating tension
between fervor and restraint.

Photo
by Bruce R Freeley

"Re- (Part One)" is even more austere. A company
representative said that the parenthetical statement in the title of this
New York premiere indicates that a Part Two will eventually materialize,
that "re" is used as a prefix implying a recurrence, as in such
words as "renew" and "rebirth," and that the dance
as a whole reflects Shen’s interest in Tibetan Buddhist culture.
Traditional Buddhist chants are intoned by Ani Choying Dolma, a Buddhist
nun who is first seen center stage, with the cast of four (Lindsay Clark,
Dai Jian, Kathleen Jewett, and Sara Procopio) gathered about her on an
intricately designed mandala.

Soon after the dancers begin to stir, it becomes clear that
this floor covering is not solid, but composed of tiny bits of paper which
break apart and swirl like confetti whenever anyone moves through them.
Again from the company, I learned that these flurries symbolize the transience
and impermanence of all things. Yet bits of confetti occasionally settle
down and cling to the dancers’ bodies, as if to suggest that particles
of impermanent forms can reassemble.

The vocalist repositions herself as the dancers slowly and
solemnly advance and retreat. Although the production is convincingly
ritualistic, there were moments when it turned lulling, rather than serene.
But Shen does promise a Part Two, and so it remains to be seen how any
choreographic additions will affect the impact of Part One.